


Ready Or Not

by fadeoutslow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeoutslow/pseuds/fadeoutslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimi's seduction technique needs work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's the last person Nico would have expected to see here, but there he is, sitting in the corner of the hotel bar by himself, calmly nursing what looks like a vodka and, well, _staring_. At Nico, it would seem. Which is… odd, but then Kimi's always odd. 

Nico nods at him, and Kimi raises two of the fingers wrapped around his glass in acknowledgement. _Okay_ , Nico thinks, and turns back to his companions, smiling. They're all having one last drink, capping off the night before they head upstairs to their rooms. Nico watches Kimi out of the corner of his eye, half-listening to his friends talk, and the guy doesn't move, doesn't look away. He seems totally impassive and it's only after some time that Nico starts to notice the _heat_ in his gaze. And _oh_ , Nico suddenly realizes, so _that's_ what's going on here.

He shakes his head, but it's not as if attention is ever a bad thing, and he's just drunk enough that it's hard to resist showing off a little, teasing. He runs one hand through his hair, laughs too loudly, tilting his jaw to reveal the line of his throat. His folded arms rest on the bar as he angles his ass out, not being even remotely subtle, and glances back over his shoulder at Kimi. His expression has barely changed, but there's the hint of a scowl around his mouth, a concentration of _focus_ that makes it clear that Nico's having the desired effect.

Which is always gratifying.

His friends finally leave, but Nico stays for one more drink, curious to see if Kimi will actually try anything. He keeps his back to the room, quite still now, making it clear that he won't be the one doing the approaching, that if Kimi wants him, he can make the first move, and he doesn't have to wait long.

"Hi," Kimi says, sidling up next to Nico.

"Hello," Nico says, coolly, not wanting to seem _too_ interested. He turns, leaning back against the bar, the hard edge pressing into his spine. "I wouldn't have thought this was your kind of place." Too quiet, too upmarket.

"It's not."

"But here you are."

Kimi shrugs. "I was looking for you."

"And why were you doing that?" Nico asks, all innocence, taking another sip of his drink.

"I thought you might let me fuck you," Kimi says, like it's a perfectly normal thing to say, and Nico doesn't consider himself a person who's easily surprised but he has to take a moment, stop himself from reacting in any obvious manner.

"Really," he says, buying some time, because this definitely isn't what he expected.

"Yeah." Kimi nods.

"Well," Nico says, cautiously, "I think maybe you need to work on your seduction technique."

"I don't like to waste time."

And there's a certain appeal to that, Nico thinks, but it's not like he's some kind of _whore_. Or okay, well, he is, pretty much, but not _that_ kind. "So what gave you the impression I might let you fuck me?" he asks.

"You were flirting with me just now," Kimi says. He shifts closer. "Also Seb told me you were really easy."

" _Seb_ ," Nico scoffs. "How would he know?"

"I think Jenson told him."

And yeah, Nico can't argue with that, because Jenson _would_ know. 

"So…" Kimi says.

Nico looks at him, says evenly, "No thanks, I'm good."

"Really?" And Kimi actually seems genuinely shocked, which pleases Nico in small, petty way.

"Yeah," he says.

"Okay," says Kimi, sounding suitably pissed. He motions at the bartender, orders another vodka. "What," he says, turning to Nico, "was I supposed to ask you out on a date first or something?"

"Maybe." Nico finishes off his drink, places the glass on the bar, pushing it away from him.

"I don't like dates," Kimi says.

"No," Nico says, "I don't much like them either."

"I guess I could buy you dinner or something."

Nico nearly laughs at how put-upon Kimi seems, but he schools his features, stays neutral. "You could've bought me a drink," he says.

Kimi glares at him for a second, then raises his hands, just slightly, in a grudging gesture of surrender. "Would you like a drink?" he says, sounding utterly ungracious and more than a little resentful.

"Actually," Nico says, smiling politely, "I'm done for the night. But I appreciate the offer." He pauses, then corrects himself. " _Offers_."

And it's really almost attractive, bordering on charming, how _irritated_ Kimi looks. "Is this some playing-hard-to-get-thing?" he says.

"I don't play games," Nico says. 

"Right," says Kimi, narrowing his eyes, like he's sure he's missing something but unable to work out exactly what it is.

"Well," Nico says, "nice talking to you. Good night." 

He turns, walks away, grinning to himself as he hears the muttered, petulant, "Whatever," from behind him.

He doesn't know Kimi all _that_ well, but he knows him enough to be aware that he's the kind of person who tends to get what he wants. And if he wants Nico then, well. This isn't over. 

And yeah, Nico thinks. It's going to be good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being turned down sucks.

Kimi sits at the bar, goes on drinking, telling the bartender to keep the vodkas coming. It's not even a _good_ bar. Elegant people and expensive drinks and quiet conversations. The wood surfaces are polished spotless, the seats comfortable, the floor clean. So, basically, just incredibly fucking boring. He came all the way over here planning on getting some stupid German ass, and somehow he's ended up with nothing. No German, no stupid ass and now he's far too grumpy to make the effort to move on to somewhere more alive.

Which is really, really annoying.

Especially because, stupid or not, that really is some _very_ fine German ass. And okay, yeah, maybe he could have finessed his approach a little more, could have been a touch more subtle, but subtle isn't his style. He doesn't do subtle. He doesn't _seduce_ people, _woo_ them or any of that shit.

And if what Seb tells him is true, then Nico's slutted his way round pretty much the whole paddock, so why he suddenly needs to be treated like some fragile little delicate virgin is beyond Kimi's understanding. He downs another vodka, tries not to think.

It doesn't work.

Because the guy is just so damn _pretty_. His hair, his eyes, his _mouth_ , oh god. Kimi shifts in his seat just at the thought. And the worst part is that the fucker _knows_ it too, knows exactly how gorgeous he is, wearing that haughty, permanently pleased-with-himself look that Kimi just wants to fuck right off his smug face.

And yeah, that's what he wants, he thinks. To watch the guy come undone, come apart, watch that self-satisfied façade break down as he begs for more. He pictures Nico, writhing and twisting beneath him, eyes closed, mouth open, his wrists pinned over his head as Kimi holds him down. 

_Fuck me_ , he'll say, desperately pushing his hips up, looking for friction, Kimi backing off enough that Nico gets nothing, his cock thrusting into empty air. 

_Say please_ , Kimi will tell him, and Nico will make a tiny, high whining noise in the back of his throat, desperate and so fucking _needy_ -sounding.

 _Please_ , he'll say. _Please fuck me_. 

And Kimi will, he'll fuck him good and hard, use him up till there's nothing left, till Nico's just a shattered heap beneath him, boneless and wasted, but still managing to plead for more and _more_ , and Kimi won't stop, not ever, not till he's done. 

He gestures for another drink, and the bartender gives him a long, thoughtful look before serving him, and Kimi's seen that expression enough to know he's got about two more vodkas before the man starts in with the _do you think perhaps you've had enough, sir?_

Which is great, fucking great, and he's just about to give up on the night as a total write-off waste of time when a woman slides on the stool next to him, lithe and slim and tanned, smelling of perfume and money.

"Hi," she says. "I'm Bianca."

 _Of course you are_ , Kimi thinks, but he turns to greet her. "I'm…" he starts, but she interrupts.

"I know who you are," she says.

"Hmm," Kimi says, smirking at her, and she gazes back at him, bold and unashamed.

She crosses then uncrosses her legs, says, "I have a room upstairs," and _see_ Kimi reflects, _this_ is how it's supposed to work.

"That sounds good," he says, and she stands, smoothing down her dress.

"Put his tab on my bill," she says to the bartender, who's noticeably, respectfully deferential towards her. She's someone important, clearly, but Kimi's not the kind of person to know who matters and who doesn't when it comes to social standings.

They stand side by side in the elevator, both staring up at the floor lights scrolling by, not saying anything, until Kimi leans down, kissing her on the neck, licking briefly over her skin. She doesn't taste of anything, he thinks. Nothing at all.

She laughs, a short, sharp exhale of breath. "My husband's a big fan of yours," she says.

Kimi nods, looks at her, says, "Can I fuck you in the ass?"

She regards him, unruffled, the corner of her mouth quirked up in something that could be a smile. "Sure," she says. "Sure you can."

-

A few days later and Kimi's at Enstone, sitting through yet another boring meeting. They told him when he signed they'd keep this kind of shit to a minimum, but it's always too much. He's nearly asleep by the end, and when everyone gets up and starts to leave, he stays, sitting, thinking. 

"Can I get you anything?" says one of the… people. PA, press officer, admin, something. Kimi honestly has no idea what most of the staff here actually _do_ , apart from try to make his car go faster.

He looks at her, and she seems nervous. Like, _really_ nervous, which is actually pretty funny. "Rosberg," Kimi says.

"Rosberg," she replies, nodding, very obviously desperately trying to fathom what he's talking about. "Nico or Keke?"

"Nico."

"Okay, yes."

"What does he like?"

She stares at him, uncomprehending.

"To drink," Kimi says. "Do you know what he likes to drink?"

"Oh," she says. She considers a moment, then says, "You know, I believe he likes wine."

"Fancy wine?"

"Yes." She smiles, tentatively. "Fancy wine."

"Can you send him some?"

"No problem!" she says, a little too eagerly. "I'll find out exactly what he likes."

"Something expensive."

" _Very_ expensive." She nods, understanding. "Should I send a card or a message as well?"

"No," he says. "He'll know what it's for." 

"Okay!"

She's so enthusiastic, Kimi thinks. He doesn't understand people who are that enthusiastic about things that don't involve racing. Or drinking. "Thanks," he tells her.

"My pleasure, Mr Raikkonen."

"Kimi."

" _Kimi_ ," she says, sounding pleased. She turns to leave and Kimi knows perfectly well that the very first thing she's going to do when she gets out that door is inform every single person in the immediate vicinity of the extraordinary fact that she just had an _entire conversation_ with him.

But, you know, whatever. It is what it is, and he likes to keep everyone guessing. It makes life more interesting.

And maybe this is a mistake, making another play for Rosberg, but it's not as if he's the one who's going to be paying for the wine, and the guy really can't turn him down any more emphatically than he already has, so.

It's worth a try, at the very least. If only to get Nico out of his head. Because currently, he's very, _very_ firmly ensconced in Kimi's brain. Like he's taken up residence there. And god knows Kimi tries to do as little as possible but even the bare minimum is becoming increasingly difficult to accomplish due to the fact that he's having to jerk off what seems like every five fucking minutes.

Thinking, of course, of Nico. Nico's mouth, Nico's ass… Kimi scrubs at his eyes, shakes his head, because he needs for this to stop.

It's completely ridiculous. He just needs to fuck the guy, he tells himself. Get him over and done with and out of his system so that he can move the fuck on. 

He might know from bitter experience that things are rarely so simple, but, for the moment, he's choosing to ignore that fact. Kimi prefers to focus on what's directly in front of him, not the long-term or the big picture. Those are for other people to worry about. 

And what's in front of him right now, what he wants most, is Nico. 

And Kimi? Kimi knows how to get what he wants.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico receives Kimi's gift.

The package arrives at his apartment a few days after the encounter in the bar, and as soon as Nico sees that it's a bottle of wine, he guesses who it's from. _Buying me a drink, then_ , he thinks to himself, smiling. And yeah, _finally_ , but he's certainly not going to complain, because it's a very _nice_ bottle of wine, a reasonably rare vintage and one of his favorites. 

Expensive too, indulgently so, and he's not stupid or naïve enough to think that Kimi actually went to the effort of tracking down Nico's tastes, sourcing the wine and arranging for it to be sent to him. That would be absurd, he knows. No, he's quite sure he can thank some poor faceless minion at Lotus for going to that much trouble.

But Kimi would have had to _ask_ someone to go to that much trouble, he would have had to specifically request it, and that, Nico knows, is not nothing. That is no small thing, not even remotely. He laughs at the thought, at how much it probably would have annoyed Kimi, to have to talk to someone at that length, explain what he wanted. 

And Nico considers opening the bottle now, having a glass, but it's not the kind of thing to drink by yourself. Instead, he puts it on the table, arranging it so it's right in the center. And stands for a minute, looks at it. It's just wine, of course, but it's not _just_ that. It's also a gesture, a concession from a person who, from what Nico knows of him, doesn't easily make concessions.

Nico's intrigued, he'll admit. Intrigued enough that he decides to go against his first instinct, which is to call Kimi, thank him. No, he thinks, better to wait, see what happens, see if he can push Kimi just that little bit further. It's a risk, definitely, but he's fairly certain the reward will be oh so very worth it.

-

Three days later, Nico's phone rings, and he doesn't recognize the number but answers it anyway, just in case. "Hello," he says, and there's a pause.

"Hello," someone replies in a gruff monotone, and it's not as if the voice is difficult to identify.

"Oh," Nico says, "Hi." 

"Hello," says Kimi, again.

"I wanted to thank you," Nico says. " For the wine." He laughs briefly, feeling strangely awkward. "It was very thoughtful of you."

"Sure," Kimi says, and Nico can hear him breathing for a second before he speaks again. "I'm going to be in Monaco tomorrow so I thought we could…" He sighs, clearly exasperated. " _See_ each other."

"Why are you coming to Monaco?"

"What?"

"Why are you coming to Monaco?" Nico repeats.

"Oh," Kimi says. "For an event."

"What event?" 

There's a moment of silence, then Kimi says, "There's no event."

"No event?"

And then there's an even longer silence. "I thought I could _see_ you," says Kimi.

Nico's smiling now, because he's enjoying this. "So you're coming to Monaco just to see me?"

"Maybe."

"I'm flattered."

"It's not like it's _far_."

"Far enough."

Kimi doesn't reply, so Nico decides to push it just that bit further. "I guess you want me pretty bad, then," he says, casually. And he might not speak much Finnish but he speaks enough to recognize the muttered words that follow as some especially descriptive swearing. He bites his lip, trying not to laugh. 

"Fuck you," Kimi finally says, almost growling the words out. "Go fuck yourself."

"I'd rather not," says Nico. "And I'm busy tomorrow night, but the night after that, I'm free."

"Oh." Kimi sounds genuinely surprised, almost shocked. "Really?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Kimi says, tentatively.

"You know where I live, right?" 

"No."

"You can find out," Nico says, unconcerned. "I'll see you around eight."

He hangs up the phone, and looks over at the bottle of wine, which is still sitting in the middle of the table, right where he left it.

And yeah, he's having fun playing with Kimi, but this isn't _just_ a game. Kimi… _interests_ him. He's a strange guy, sure, but there's something beneath that surface oddness that's got Nico a little fascinated, maybe more than he's willing to admit.

He heads for the shower, trying to distract himself, but while he's soaping himself up under the hot spray, he starts thinking about Kimi, again. He's _solid_ for an F1 driver, Nico muses, idling stroking his cock. Strong, probably. They're all strong, of course, but most of the other drivers are more like Nico, leaner, wiry. Kimi's got some weight to him, bulk, like he could hold you down while he fucked you, like he could do that with ease.

Nico's hand moves faster, and he wonders just how far he could push Kimi, how angry he could make him, before he'd snap, before that impassive exterior would shatter, and he'd just _take_ Nico, rough and forceful, give him exactly what he wants, what he needs.

And he's coming at the thought, hot water running over him as he shudders, watches his come circle down into the drain.

Maybe he's in over his head, but then again, maybe not. 

He can't wait to find out.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimi at Nico's place.

The concierge tells him he's expected, sends him up. There's a mirror at the back of the elevator and Kimi catches himself checking his hair. _Ridiculous_ , he thinks, and this is what he's reduced to, shallow vanity in the hope that some slutty little piece of ass will deign to let Kimi fuck him. He shakes his head.

And he knows perfectly well that Nico isn't _just_ some piece of ass (though Kimi's fervently hoping the 'slutty' part is entirely true), that this has gone beyond wanting some quick fuck. Nico's made him work for this, and Kimi doesn't generally work for _anything_ , not if he doesn't absolutely have to. 

But Nico's captured his attention, has managed to get him _interested_. The guy is a mystery, that's for sure, and while Kimi doesn't like being confused, he hates being bored a whole lot more, so. 

He doesn't even know for certain that they'll actually be fucking tonight. He _assumes_ they will be, because why else would Nico have invited him to his apartment rather than take up Kimi's offer to meet somewhere, but he's guessing Nico's not going to make it easy, that Kimi will have to jump through a few more hoops like some trained circus dog before they're able to get on with it.

_Yeah_ , he thinks, sarcastically, he can hardly wait. The guy better be worth it, is all.

Kimi knocks on the door. He's brought another bottle of wine with him, not wanting to again be accused of being thoughtless, and he holds it up, ready to show Nico, prove himself.

The door opens. "Hi," Nico says, and Kimi almost jumps back, because _damn_ , that wasn't what he was expecting. Nico is wearing… well, very little. Not much at all, just a pair of very short grey boxer briefs and an unbuttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms.

He leans against the door, one arm up, hip tilted to the side, smirking, clearly appreciative of Kimi's inability to stop staring. 

And Kimi looks him up and down, and _fuck_ but he wants some of that. So bad. Like _so_ fucking bad, and if this is just some tease, if Nico's not giving it up tonight, then he doesn't know what the fuck he'll do.

He doesn't know what he's capable of doing, is what worries him.

He blinks, says, "I bought wine," proffering the bottle.

"So I see." Nico takes it, steps back, ushering Kimi inside. They walk through into the living room and Nico gestures at the couches. "Sit down," he says, and Kimi does, arranging himself awkwardly. He shouldn't feel this nervous. It's _ridiculous_ that he feels this nervous. This isn't him, this isn't how he does things.

"I thought," Nico says, calling out from the kitchen, "we could have that first bottle you sent. I've been saving it."

"You didn't drink it?"

Nico reappears with two glasses of wine, holding them from beneath, palm up, two fingers either side of the stem. He offers one to Kimi, who takes it. "It's not the type of thing you drink on your own," says Nico, seating himself at the other end of the couch, facing Kimi, one leg bent sideways in front of him. The position doesn't leave much to the imagination, Kimi gratefully notes.

He shrugs. "I thought you'd drink it with someone else."

Nico smiles at him. "I wanted to wait for you." He raises his glass, and Kimi half-heartedly does the same, taking a gulp of wine.

"It's not vodka," Nico says, looking amused.

"What?"

"It's wine, you don't drink it like it's a shot."

"Oh," Kimi says. "Sorry." He swallows a tiny mouthful, trying to be civilized but it's _alcohol_ (though technically, he's not sure that wine could ever be considered _actual_ alcohol) and drinking it in polite sips just kind of goes against the whole point of its existence.

"Do you like it?" Nico asks him.

"Sure," Kimi says, trying to sound vaguely enthused.

And Nico laughs. "I'm guessing you're not really a wine buff."

"Not really." 

" _I_ like it."

"That's nice." 

"I like that you bought it for me, too."

"That's nice, too."

Nico nods, watching Kimi as he continues to drink, and Kimi has no idea whether or not he's supposed to try and make conversation, but he hopes not. Small talk isn't exactly his forte, but Nico seems quite at ease, so he sits in silence, continuing to take stupid little swallows of wine until the entire glass is gone. He puts it on a nearby side table and wonders if he should make a move. Nico's just _looking_ at him, and Kimi honestly can't tell if the guy is waiting for Kimi to start things or if this is just some kind of build-up.

He's stumped, to be truthful, and generally he has no problem just walking away from people who puzzle him, because life's too short, but Nico's gotten under his skin, and it's really fucking annoying.

Also, he has to admit, pretty hot. He fidgets a bit, looking around the room.

Until finally Nico drains his own glass, places it carefully on the coffee table and then proceeds to climb gracefully into Kimi's lap, straddling his thighs. And _oh_ , Kimi thinks. Well. It's about time. 

"Hi," Nico says, settling himself down on to Kimi's legs, fingers combing through Kimi's hair.

"Hi," Kimi replies.

And Nico leans in, kissing him, tentative at first, brief, close-mouthed kisses along the line of Kimi's lips that leave him frustrated and reaching for more. He grabs the back of Nico's neck, impatient, and Nico pulls away. "You're so _greedy_ ," he says, "always in such a hurry."

But he's smiling, and this time when he comes closer, his mouth is open, ready, and _this_ is what Kimi has been waiting for, no tease, just something basic and raw, Nico's tongue against his own, the sound of his breath, the low noise in Nico's throat as Kimi demands more.

He slides his hands up Nico's back, under his shirt, roaming over skin, moving down to his ass, tight muscle under his grasp, and Nico's kneeling up now, eager, Kimi leaning his head back as Nico looms over him.

He gets one hand inside Nico's briefs and starts stroking his cock, and Nico moans into his mouth, thrusting into Kimi's fist, and Kimi's sure he's got him now. This is it, it has to be, it just has to be. He wraps one arm around Nico's waist, shifts, wanting to get Nico on his back, get on top of him, but suddenly Nico twists out of his grasp, lithe and elusive, standing up.

" _What_?" Kimi says, and Nico grins at him. He's flushed, panting, and so fucking _beautiful_ it almost _hurts_ , just to look at him.

"Bedroom," he says, and turns away, stripping off his shirt and underwear as he moves. Kimi follows, staring at Nico's ass as he walks, the way he swings his hips like some fucking whore, and yeah, Kimi's getting inside that, whatever it takes.

He stands, watching as Nico crawls on to the bed, sits back, his legs extended, leaning back on one hand, the other wrapped around his cock. "Take your clothes off," he tells Kimi.

Kimi eyes him for a moment, because he's not going to be ordered around, no fucking way, but still, he obeys, toeing off his shoes and socks, pulling his t-shirt over his head, kicking off his jeans and underwear. Nico looks at him, licking his lips, stroking himself slowly. "Turn around," he says.

"What?"

"Turn around."

Kimi frowns, not pleased with where this is going, but he does what he's told, turning a slow circle. He knew this was too good to be true, too fucking _simple_. It was never going to be that easy, he supposes, and he can feel himself getting more and more pissed off, because who does this guy think he is?

"You look good," Nico says.

"Yeah," Kimi replies. "Thanks."

"Now jump up and down."

" _What_?" 

Nico smiles like the evil little shit he apparently is. "Do it."

And Kimi looks at him, thinking, because he's missing something here, he knows. Nico's face is challenging, defiant, but there's something almost _hopeful_ in the edges of his expression, like _longing_ , maybe and Kimi can't _quite_ work out why until… _oh_. Yeah. And it's like a key turning in a lock inside his head, everything coming into focus because _now_ he gets it.

"No," he says, cold as he can.

Nico shrugs. "Maybe you should go."

"Maybe you should shut the fuck up," Kimi growls.

Nico's suddenly very, very still, and his eyes are gleaming, delighted. "Maybe you should make me," he says, serious and quiet, and the air feels loaded with something like electricity, sparking and feverish.

Kimi smiles at him, because this is definitely a game where he knows the rules, a game he knows how to win. He climbs on to the bed, slowly, deliberately, and Nico lies back, Kimi over him on his hands and knees.

"You talk too much," Kimi says.

"Sometimes," Nico agrees, holding Kimi's gaze. 

"I don't like it."

Nico doesn't say anything, but he bites his bottom lip, and Kimi can hear him breathing through his mouth, rapid, excited inhales. He kneels up, shifting himself until he's between Nico's thighs, grabbing his legs and spreading them wider, and Nico's relaxed, pliant, allowing himself to be arranged. Kimi drags the tips of his fingers over Nico's skin, his ribs, his stomach, feather-light touches until Nico starts to whine, needy-sounding and so _ready_.

And Kimi settles himself down on top of Nico, enjoying the tiny gasp he makes when their cocks touch, thrusting up his hips just slightly, seemingly unable to help himself. "No," Kimi says. "Wait." He thinks for a moment, then says, "Put your hands over your head." And when Nico complies, he adds, "Keep them there, stay still." 

Kimi leans in, licking on Nico's neck, the clean, faint taste of sweat under his tongue, and he'd like to bite, leave marks, but he's not that stupid. He moves, cock rubbing up against Nico's, and it's all he can do to control himself, not just let go and do this, mindlessly, but he's not giving in.

Kimi never gives in.

He looks down at Nico, studies him, the red flush creeping up over his chest, the pained, desperate look on his face. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," Nico whispers, and Kimi shakes his head.

"No," he says. "Don't talk." He covers Nico's mouth with one hand, loosely, taking care not to block his nose, and asks again. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Nico nods, and Kimi feels his lips against his palm.

"I think," he says, "that you'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?"

And Nico nods again.

"Hmm." Kimi hums to himself, pleased. "Well," he says, "I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

He removes his hand, and Nico grins at him, looking wild, maybe a little crazy, and Kimi's feeling kind of crazy himself right now, so he grins back.

"Okay," he says, nodding. _Okay_.

-

_Fuck_ , Kimi thinks as he stubs his toe against one of the chairs in Nico's bedroom, trying to find his socks in the dark. He hisses, quiet as he can, but there's a laugh from the bed, where Nico's lying, wide awake, watching him. "You can turn on the light," he says.

"I was letting you sleep."

"Yeah," Nico says, obviously amused, "you're so selfless, sneaking out in the middle of the night, not even saying goodbye." He switches on one of the bedside lamps and turns over on to his front, shifting down till his head's at the foot of the bed, chin resting on one hand, his legs wide behind him. "You can stay, if you want," he says.

Kimi shrugs, feeling slightly ashamed, which is… _weird_ , he thinks, because mostly he doesn't do shame. "I don't like mornings after."

"We could have breakfast," Nico says.

"I don't eat breakfast."

"Well," says Nico, moving his ass from side to side, not even making an attempt at being subtle, "you could come back to bed."

And _shit_ it's tempting, but Kimi never stays the night. Not ever. It's not his style. "I should go," he says.

"Sure," Nico says, rolling on to his side, pulling the sheet over himself. He yawns, and he doesn't _seem_ angry, but Kimi's not sure.

"Sorry," he says, just in case.

"Yeah," says Nico, "you can call me if you want."

"Really?"

"Really." Nico closes his eyes, and Kimi watches him for a moment before he finishes dressing. He hesitates, uncertain whether he should say anything, but instead he reaches over, turns off the bedside lamp. "Thanks," Nico says, not stirring, not opening his eyes.

"You're welcome," Kimi says, and as his vision adjusts to the darkness, he carefully makes his way out.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimi calls, things move on.

Kimi _does_ call which, if he's honest, kind of amazes Nico. He'd thought once Kimi had gotten some that would be it, he'd be gone, but no, about a week later, he calls. 

"Can I see you again?" he says, and Kimi mostly sounds like every single word has to be prised out of him, but this question seems particularly painful. 

"Of course you can," Nico says, and the only reply is a satisfied little grunt. Nico's pretty sure that's 'happy' in Kimi-speak, and he smiles to himself. "How about tomorrow?" 

"Okay," says Kimi. 

"I'll see you then," says Nico. 

They fall into something that could be called a routine, if either of them were inclined to give what they're doing a name, which they're not. Kimi shows up at Nico's hotel room door on the Saturday night of every race weekend, and when there's more than two weeks between races they usually contrive to meet up somewhere. 

And Nico has to admit that he's enjoying himself, more than he thought, that he finds himself pretty much constantly surprised by Kimi, and how he _is_ , in bed. It's nothing to do with the kinkiness, because yeah, Nico totally called that. Anyone with half a brain could have called that, but no, it's how _inspired_ Kimi is, how _persistent_. Because that's something Nico never expected, wouldn't have predicted in a million years. The way Kimi can make him wait, the things he does to him. It's… well, it's basically some of the best sex Nico's ever had, and Nico's had a _lot_ of sex. Like a _whole_ lot, but this is something else again. 

Tonight he's got Nico bent over a table, sitting on a chair behind him as he tongues Nico's ass like he's got all night, all the time in the world, licking him open in slow, perfect torture, mouth wet against Nico's hole until he's groaning for it, begging for relief. 

"Look at you," Kimi says, "I don't even have to use my fingers. I could fuck you right now, you're so ready for it." 

"Yes," says Nico, and he would have never described Kimi's voice as sexy, but there's something about dirty talk in that slow, unchanging almost-monotone that's strangely just the hottest fucking thing ever. 

"You're such a slut," says Kimi. 

"Yes," Nico whispers, feeling like he might come undone at any moment, lose it completely. 

"Hmm." Kimi bites the muscle of Nico's ass, gently, not hard enough to leave marks, and says, "You like it when I call you names." 

"Please," Nico says. 

"Bitch," says Kimi, and Nico whines. The table's hard underneath his body, his cock pressed up at an awkward angle, but he won't move until Kimi says he can.

"Whore." Kimi laughs, low and filthy. "I like you," he says, suddenly, out of nowhere, and in the moment Nico barely notices, but afterwards, when Kimi's gone, he'll remember. 

But now, Kimi says, "I'm going to fuck you," and Nico can't wait.

Two weeks later and Nico's naked, Kimi still fully clothed, glaring at Nico like he's dinner. They're at Nico's apartment, in the living room, and Kimi looks around for a minute, then pushes the coffee table out of the way, points to a spot on the floor in front of the couch and says, "Get on your knees, there."

Nico obeys, and Kimi sits himself down, not showing any inclination to touch Nico. Instead he unfastens his jeans, takes out his cock, stroking it a little. He smiles wickedly, offers Nico his hand. "Lick it," he says.

And Nico spits into Kimi's palm, tongue working over his hand, saliva dribbling from his mouth, sucking on Kimi's fingers one by one. He grabs Kimi's wrist, hard, keeping hold, but Kimi snatches his hand away. "No," he says. "You can watch."

He slides forward on the couch, pulling on his cock, gaze raking over Nico's body, coming to rest on his chest, then his lips. "Do you want to suck me?" he asks.

"Yeah," Nico says, his voice hoarse.

"Too bad, then," says Kimi. His hand starts to move faster, and Nico can't look away. 

Kimi stands up and Nico shuffles forward, mouth ready, but Kimi stops him. "No," he says, continuing to jerk off, and Nico stares up at him, at the way he looks, his expression, the intensity of it. Nico doesn't close his eyes till the last possible moment, when he can see Kimi's just about to come, hot splashes all over Nico's face, his chest, dripping down.

And before he can move, he's pushed on to the carpet, on his back, Kimi over him, licking him clean with an urgency that makes Nico feel lost, out of his depth, like there's something about it he doesn't fully understand, something that he can't quite grasp. When he finally opens his eyes, Kimi's kissing his way over Nico's stomach, down and down until he takes Nico's cock in his mouth, and then Nico stops thinking about anything at all.

A week after that, and it's the start of the summer break, and Kimi's sitting back on his heels in the middle of the bed with Nico draped over his lap. "Do you have seat fittings or anything this week?"

"What?" Nico says, distracted. Kimi's touching him lightly, drawing patterns, it feels like, with his fingertips, over Nico's ass. His cock's between Kimi's thighs but he's got his legs far enough apart that Nico can't get any friction. "No," he says, frustrated. "I've got this week off and then I'm in the sim for a few days next week."

"The _sim_ ," says Kimi, disdainful.

"Do you really never use it?" Nico asks.

"It's pointless."

"Sometimes it's helpful."

"It's pointless," Kimi says, again.

"You just think you're too good for it," Nico says.

"I _am_ too good for it."

"And so humble, too."

"Shut up."

Nico laughs, breathless. "And why are you asking about seat fittings?"

"You're going to have a sore ass tomorrow," Kimi says.

"Why?" Nico asks, but the word's barely out before Kimi starts spanking him. " _Fuck_ ," says Nico, but he's soon beyond speaking, short, sharp slaps that burn and sting interspersed with caresses on tender, over-sensitized skin until Nico's writhing with it, eyes watering, hands clawing at the bed sheets, desperately trying to hold on.

After, when Kimi's gone, he thinks about the fact that Kimi actually _checked_ , that he took the time to ask, make sure that what he was planning wasn't going to interfere with Nico's racing or commitments. And he's never really considered it before, but he realizes that, for all that Kimi's seemingly rough with him, he never ever _hurts_ him, never does anything that would any kind of real lasting pain or mark. He never restrains Nico, never leaves bruises, has never, before now, hit or slapped him in even the most light-hearted, teasing way. And Nico's pretty certain that if they weren't at the beginning of the break, the spanking tonight wouldn't have happened, wouldn't have even been on the menu.

Kimi's _careful_ with him, _thoughtful_. He keeps Nico _safe_ and the knowledge of that makes Nico smile, makes him feel kind of maybe a little warm somewhere inside his chest. And yeah, Nico's smart enough to know that having those types of feelings about what is, in essence, nothing more than a casual fuck-buddy arrangement is asking for trouble, but _whatever_ , he tells himself.

He'll get over it.

They don't see each other again until the summer break is nearly at its end, and when they're finished, Nico lies on the bed, watching Kimi dress. He still hasn't ever spent the night, and Nico tries not to mind, but sometimes it makes him feel cheap, the way Kimi might doze for a while when they're done fucking but he'll never ever linger. The slightest hint of anything approaching real intimacy can't be allowed to occur, Nico supposes, and he's not bitter about it, he's not.

Kimi frowns, glancing around the room, and Nico notices his jeans are in the corner behind the chair where he won't be able to see them, so he gets up, grabbing them off the floor, shaking them out and handing them to Kimi, who nods in thanks.

"I wish you could stay," Nico says, trailing his fingers over Kimi's forearm, stroking gently at the center of the tattoo there.

"I can't," Kimi replies, shortly, moving out of Nico's reach, stepping into his jeans.

"Yeah, I know." Nico doesn't mean to sound wistful, and he's aware he's giving too much away here, but he goes on. "Sometimes I feel like I don't even know you."

Kimi looks at him, face clear. "You know me better than most people," he says, and it's plain he's serious, that he means it, but it doesn't feel like enough.

"I doubt that," Nico says, shrugging.

"You…" Kimi starts. He doesn't finish, voice trailing away as he bends down to pull on his shoes, and when he stands up, his expression is hard, shuttered. "What do you think we're doing?" he says.

"I don't know," Nico answers, because he doesn't, he honestly doesn't know.

"We're just fucking," says Kimi.

"You can't…" Nico tries to say but Kimi holds up one hand, shifts away for a moment.

When he looks back, he says it again, more forcefully. "We're just fucking."

"Okay, well," says Nico. "Thank you for making that clear."

Kimi stares at him, and his mouth is a thin, tight line, but there's something like fear in his eyes, something vaguely resembling panic.

"I appreciate you letting me know where I stand." Nico's skin feels hot, prickled with sparks of humiliation, and he knows this is all his fault, that he's the one to blame, but that only makes it worse.

Kimi doesn't say anything, and Nico shakes his head, walks away, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

There's no sound from outside as he splashes cold water on his face, standing at the sink, gripping the edge as he stares blankly into the mirror, and he can't believe he's let things go this far, that he's been this fucking foolish, but there it is. Guarding his heart has always been a habit, and perhaps lately he's taken his ability to do that too much for granted. 

He just can't believe he's let someone get under his skin like this, and all of people, Kimi fucking Raikkonen. It's just… it's _pathetic_.

But if being an F1 driver teaches you anything, it's how to put on a mask, how to fake confidence when everything is falling apart around you, and Nico's not going to be defeated by some ridiculous infatuation.

That's all it is, he tells himself, just sex endorphins gone crazy, clouding his judgement. He nods at his reflection in the mirror, and takes another moment, composing himself, but when he comes out of the bathroom, there's no sign of anyone.

Kimi's gone.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't improve.

The next weekend, Nico sits by himself in his hotel room on Saturday night, waiting. He doesn't know what he's expecting, but Kimi's turned up at his door every single race weekend Saturday night since they started… _seeing_ each other, and maybe it's hopeless, but he feels like this is something he needs to do, give things one last chance. 

He tells himself that he's being ridiculous, that he doesn't care anyway, but there's a part of him that seems to somehow truly believe that Kimi's just going to knock on the door like nothing happened, and everything will be fine, all exactly the same as it was before Nico had to go and ruin it.

He waits, wandering around the room aimlessly, checking his phone, not even turning on the tv, but nothing happens. Only the silence to keep him company, and Kimi doesn't show, doesn't call. 

Eventually Nico gives up, goes to bed alone.

And _well_ , he thinks. That's that, he supposes. It was good while it lasted, at least. All for the best, really, he tells himself, but there's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a tightness in his chest that he chooses to ignore.

The driver's parade the next day is one of those where they all ride together on the back of a truck, rather than in separate cars. They're herded on like cattle, waving absently at the crowds, giving them a thumbs up when they cheer loud enough.

Nico leans on the railing as they drive along, trying to pretend he hasn't noticed that Kimi's avoiding him like he's got some deadly contagious disease, that he won't even look in Nico's direction, staring into space, impassive behind reflective sunglasses, seemingly ignoring even Seb and Heikki.

Nico sighs, clearly louder than he intends, because Jenson turns to him, smirking. "Aw, Britney," he says. "What's wrong?"

Nico ignores the question, instead asking, "Are you flying out tonight or in the morning?"

"In the morning, why?" Jenson leers at him. "You up for some action?"

"Maybe." 

"Thought you were busy with the Iceman."

Nico shrugs. "Not anymore."

"Ooh," Jenson says, theatrically, "trouble in paradise?"

"Fuck off."

"Now, now." Jenson smiles. "Play nice."

"We were never exclusive anyway," Nico says, feeling like he needs to explain. "It was just casual."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why?" 

"Because," Jenson replies, staring over Nico's shoulder, "he's watching me talking to you right now and I swear he looks like he's about to come over here and kill me with his bare hands."

"Really?" Nico makes the effort not to sound _too_ hopeful, but it's obvious he fails.

"You trying to make him jealous?"

"No."

"Yeah, bullshit." Jenson laughs. "So you'd just be _using_ me? Why, I'm _shocked_."

"I just want some company," Nico says. "I'm not _using_ you." He smiles back at Jenson. "And like you'd care anyway."

"True." Jenson swats at Nico's ass playfully, says, "I'll see you tonight then," and moves on, talking to Mark. And Nico very deliberately _doesn't_ turn around, facing the crowd, waving, keeping his back to Kimi for the rest of the parade.

Later that night, he's with Jenson, on the bed and just getting started when there's a knock at the door of his room. "Don't answer it," Jenson says, but Nico pulls away.

"It'll be someone from the team," he says. "They had some papers I was supposed to sign."

"Don't be long, then," Jenson tells him, and Nico gestures back at him. Jenson can wait.

But when Nico opens the door, it's Kimi. "Oh," Nico says, running one hand through his hair, "hi."

Kimi only stares at him, and Nico guesses it's probably very obvious that he's just been making out with someone. And it's not like he wants to _hurt_ Kimi, but he's done wasting time. He's not going to pine after some guy who's made it clear that he's not interested in anything beyond no-strings fucking. Life's way too short and it's not as if Nico doesn't have plenty of other offers.

"I'm actually kind of busy right now," he says, hating the way the words sound, and Jenson, of course, chooses that exact moment to appear behind him.

"Hi, Kimi," Jenson says, brightly, and Kimi's face falls. He steps back, recoiling like someone's hit him, as if he's in actual physical pain and all Nico wants to do is reach out and touch him, but it's too late for that.

He turns away, not storming off, but walking slowly down the corridor, one foot in front of the other like he's carrying something heavy, seeming utterly defeated, his shoulders hunched. Nico watches him leave, forcing himself to stand witness until Kimi disappears around the corner, then takes a breath, steps back into the room, closing the door.

"Did you have to do that?" he says.

"He seemed a bit upset," Jenson says, laughing.

"You're such an asshole," says Nico, shaking his head.

"You know, it turns me on when you get angry."

Nico raises his chin, looks at Jenson, defiant. "Well, maybe you should shut up and fuck me then."

Jenson grins at him. "Gladly."

And it's good with Jenson, because it's always good with Jenson. They've done this enough times to each know exactly what the other enjoys, but it's all a little empty, somehow, like a performance, like they're both going through the motions. At times Nico feels as if he's watching himself from a distance, behind thick glass, not really there.

After, Jenson says to him, "You kind of seem distracted."

"I guess."

"You know," Jenson says, serious now as he runs one hand over Nico's chest, "for what it's worth, I think he really does care about you."

"I don't think so."

"His face when he saw me?" Jenson nods. "Yeah, he cares." 

"Whatever," Nico says, threading his fingers through Jenson's hair.

"And you like him too."

"It doesn't matter."

"You give up too easy, Britney," Jenson says, and for once the nickname is affectionate, not mocking. He kisses Nico, briefly, then says, softly, "You always did."

Two days later and Nico's back in Monte Carlo, and it's three in the morning when the door phone rings. He stumbles out to answer it, and the concierge says hurriedly, "I'm so sorry to bother you, Mr Rosberg, I know it's very late but there's a gentleman here who…" There a voice in the background, loud, incoherent words before the man continues. "He won't leave and I'd call the police but I know he's a friend of yours, so..."

"I'll be right there," Nico says, hanging up, throwing on some clothes. 

When he gets downstairs, Kimi's sitting in a chair with his head in his hands, swaying slightly, looking very, very drunk. Nico nods to the concierge, making a mental note to give him a large tip tomorrow, and hauls Kimi to his feet. "Can you walk?" he asks, and Kimi lists unsteadily, waving his hands, trying to swat Nico away.

"I'm fine," he says, belligerently. "Leave me alone."

"Sure," Nico says, "once we get upstairs." He gets Kimi's arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight, and they make their way slowly over to the elevator. Inside, Nico props Kimi up against the wall as he presses the button for his floor, and when he turns back, Kimi's sliding slowly to one side, so Nico pushes him into the corner for more support.

"I fucked up," he says, looking at Nico, his eyes vague and unfocused. "I always fuck things up."

"Yeah." And Nico really doesn't want to deal with this. 

"No," says Kimi, "he's screwing _Button_." He leans his head back, his eyes closed. "He hates me." 

Nico exhales. "He doesn't hate you," he says, because he doesn't.

"Everyone hates me."

"You're just drunk." 

" _So_ drunk," Kimi says as the elevator doors open, and Nico's successfully manoeuvred him down the hall and into his apartment when he suddenly starts to gag, face looking almost _green_ with it. _Shit_ , Nico thinks, practically dragging Kimi into the bathroom. Where he promptly throws up all over the floor and yeah, _great_ , just fucking _great_.

"I need to lie down now," Kimi tells him, solemnly.

"I think that's a good idea," Nico says. He gets Kimi to the bed, letting him topple over on the mattress as he passes out totally, pulling off his shoes and socks, managing to get him out of his jeans, which are filthy. And it's not until then Nico that realizes that Kimi's still wearing the same clothes as two days ago, when they last saw each other, when Kimi saw Nico with Jenson. Which means he's probably been on a bender this entire time. And that's almost _flattering_ in some sad and pathetic way, Nico supposes, but right now he's way too pissed off to care.

He finds a bucket in the cupboard under the sink and sticks it next to the bed, and he doubts Kimi's going to be coordinated enough to use it, but it's better than nothing. He watches Kimi sleeping for a moment, and even in this state, he's still beautiful, all pale skin and solid muscle. His mouth's slightly open and he's snoring, just quietly, tiny little snuffling noises every time he breathes out and Nico might be inclined to find that cute if he wasn't thinking about having to clean the bathroom floor. 

_No regrets_ , he tells himself. If he's learned anything in his life, it's that some things just aren't meant to be, and there isn't anything you can do to change that. 

Not a damn thing.

He sighs, closes the bedroom door behind him.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have to get worse before they can get better.

Kimi wakes, and it's bad. It's really bad. Kimi's experienced enough hangovers in his life to know the difference between bad and really, really, _really_ bad and yeah, this one is definitely the latter. Like someone took an especially violent shit in your head while dry roasting your eyeballs kind of bad. He sits up, squinting, and _oh god_ it's like a fucking _tsunami_ of nausea washes over him.

And he's going to be sick… or not, no, it passes. There's a bucket on the floor beside the bed, he notes, and the white sheets are smeared with what would appear to be vomit, but at least he doesn't seem to have pissed himself, which is something. 

But he's alone, and has no idea where he is. He peers around the dim room, the shades pulled over against what looks like daylight, and, through the haze of queasiness, things slowly start to come into focus and oh, _shit_.

_Fuck_ , he thinks, _fuck fuck fuck_ , because this is fucking _Nico's_ place and he has no fucking clue how he even got here. He closes his eyes, trying desperately to remember what the hell happened, but there's nothing there, not a goddamn fucking thing. His mind is blank, an empty canvas and the last clear memory he has is of catching Nico at his hotel with that smug asshole Button, and then heading for a bar. 

And he doesn't even know how long ago that was, but it was definitely the start of things, and if he ended up here then god fucking knows what he could have _said_ let alone what he might have _done_. The only absolute certainty is that it wouldn't have been good.

Not even remotely good.

He considers just staying in the bedroom for as long he possibly can, pretending he's still passed out, oblivious, and the idea is extremely appealing, but he's not a coward. Kimi's done some incredibly, _fantastically_ dumb shit in his life while drunk, but he always faces the consequences. And while this might very well be the ultimate, dumbest, shittiest thing he's ever done, hiding in here isn't going to make it go away.

Time to man up, he thinks, trying to ignore the pounding in his head as he opens the door. 

And the sunlight pouring through the windows hits him like _knives_ , slicing into his brain like a blade as he scrunches up his face, holds up a hand in defence. He can see that Nico's sitting at the table, staring at the screen of a laptop, print outs of engineering data beside him, and he doesn't look at Kimi but the way his back suddenly stiffens, spine straightening with tension, it's obvious he's aware of him entering the room.

Kimi sits himself down at the other end of the table, rubbing his eyes and attempting to get enough of a hold on himself that he can think of something to say that sounds vaguely intelligent or conciliatory or apologetic. _Something_ , anything, but his tongue is thick in his mouth and there are no words, anyway. Kimi doesn't do words, and there's nothing to say.

Nico stands up, disappears into the kitchen, and when he comes back, he carefully places a large mug of steaming black coffee on the table in front of Kimi, then walks over to the windows, pulls the curtains over enough that the sunlight is no longer shining directly into Kimi's face.

He sits back down, frowning at the computer screen, and Kimi sips at his coffee. By the time he finishes, he's gradually starting to feel slightly more human. Slightly. "Can I use your shower?" he asks.

"Sure," Nico says, still not looking up. His voice is perfectly neutral, coolly detached, like this is a conversation he has every day. "Your jeans are still in the washer but there's some sweats in the bathroom that should fit you."

"Okay," Kimi says, but it's not. Nothing is okay.

He stands under the shower for a long, long time, eyes closed, face turned up under the hot spray like he can wash this away, make himself clean somehow, but he knows nothing is that simple.

He dresses, then goes into the bedroom, finds his shoes, which are not in a good state, but he wedges his feet into them anyway, heads back into the living room. Nico doesn't appear to have moved but Kimi's wallet, phone, and keys are in a small pile on the corner of the table, and he picks them up, puts them in his pockets.

And maybe he's still a little drunk, or maybe things are already so far gone that it longer matters, but he needs to know, so he says, "You and Jenson?"

Nico takes an audible breath before he answers, saying, "It's nothing. We're just fucking."

Kimi nods, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I thought _we_ were just fucking," he says, feeling self-conscious, ungainly. "But I guess we weren't."

"No," Nico says, and at last he looks up, meets Kimi's eyes, "I guess not." And there's no fire in his gaze, no anger. Just sadness, and there's a cold weight inside Kimi's chest that feels like a stone, solid with loss.

This can't be happening, he thinks. Not like this.

"We could…" he gestures. "I mean, now, if you want."

"What?" Nico says, clearly confused.

"We could fuck." And Kimi knows it's the most inappropriate, ill-timed suggestion he could possibly make, but he has to _fix_ this, he _needs_ to fix this and that's the only way he knows how. If he can just _touch_ Nico, he's sure, then he can make this better, take things back to the way they were.

But Nico says, "No, thanks." He stares at Kimi like he's crazy, and maybe he is.

He doesn't want to leave, because he knows that when he walks out the door this will be over, done with, likely broken beyond repair, so he says, "I spent the night."

"So?"

Kimi huffs out an awkward little laugh, trying to make a joke of it. "You wanted me to spend the night, and I did."

Nico just looks at him, then says, evenly, "I think maybe you should go."

"Yeah," Kimi says, slowly, finally, "I think maybe I should."


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico realizes some things, Kimi tries to apologize.

Nico's away doing some promotional work for a few days and when he gets back, there's a package waiting for him. And yeah, he recognizes this, with the black and gold logo printed on the outside and sure enough, it's another bottle of wine. Same kind as last time, even, which is just so totally and utterly _predictable_ he feels almost cheated, bitter with disappointment. He checks, and there's no message, nothing, just a small card that says _with compliments from Lotus_. He looks at it for a minute, then reseals the package, taping it up, and writes _RETURN TO SENDER_ on it in large black letters. He takes the whole thing back downstairs, leaving instructions for it to be dispatched express, just to make the point. And maybe it's petty, a little harsh, a touch too cruel, but damn, it's satisfying. 

So _very_ satisfying.

A few days after that, he's at home when there's a knock at his door, and it's a delivery guy with a huge but very tasteful arrangement of flowers. And Nico's immediate instinct is to refuse them, tell Kimi where he can stick his gifts, but he considers for a second, trying not to be rash, and they _are_ actually kind of lovely, so he relents, signing for them, closing the door, putting the vase in the middle of the table.

Again, there's no message, no note, nothing, and Nico's curious, because _technically_ , he supposes, they could be from some sponsor or PR company or something, so he finds the number of the florist stuck on the back of the vase, and calls them.

"Hi," he says, trying to sound as charming as he can, "I just received some flowers and there seems to be no card with them so I wanted to check that nothing went missing."

"It shouldn't have," says the woman on the other end of the phone. "What's your name and address?"

Nico tells her, and he can hear the tapping of a computer keyboard for a second before she replies, "No, there was no card requested with those. Guess you've got a secret admirer."

"I guess so," Nico says. "Look, I know you probably can't give me a name or anything, but could you at least give me a hint?"

"Let me see," she says. "Most of our orders are online but… no, this was a phone-in." She pauses, and then laughs. "I remember this guy. Talked like a robot, sounded sort of _angry_. That help?"

"Yeah," says Nico, sighing. "Yeah, it does."

He can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "Bet he's a real handful, right?"

"He kind of is."

"The best ones always are, sweetheart," she says. "They're worth it, though. Good luck with him."

"Thanks," Nico says, ending the call.

And yeah, he's surprised. That Kimi would go to the trouble of calling the florist himself, that he'd send flowers at all, especially after Nico returned the wine. He'd thought things were over, assumed he'd never hear from Kimi again, but the guy is apparently way more determined than Nico would have given him credit for. More determined than Nico generally, perhaps, and Nico suddenly remembers what Jenson said, about him giving up too easy.

And maybe Nico's been so busy blaming Kimi, he's never stopped to think about the part he's played in turning this whole thing into one ridiculously complicated mess. Okay, he never showed up at anyone's place blind drunk and threw up everywhere, but maybe he pushed Kimi too hard, too soon. And it's not as if he doesn't know that hooking up with Jenson again was hugely stupid, but he was so hurt, so _furious_. And it wasn't like he _wanted_ Kimi to find out the way he did and… yeah, Nico's making excuses for himself, he knows.

He has to take at least _some_ responsibility for the way things have ended up. And Jenson might talk a lot of shit, but on the rare occasions he's serious, he's usually right. Irritatingly so. Nico _does_ give up too easy, and maybe it's about time that changed. 

Maybe.

-

Kimi's not planning on moving anytime soon. Maybe not ever, because he loves this couch, he loves it a lot, and there's TV and there's food and experience has shown that moving _off_ the couch and into the world only brings trouble and pain. And Kimi has had enough of trouble and pain. So he's decided that he's staying put, turning off his phone and ignoring everyone who tries to contact him. 

They can all go fuck themselves, he thinks, because he's here for the duration. 

But people never do get the 'leave me alone' thing, and so after some indeterminate amount time Seb suddenly marches into the room, flings himself down on the other couch. "Hi," he says, and Kimi ignores him.

"I said, 'Hi,'" Seb says, louder this time, and when Kimi ignores him again he throws a cushion at Kimi's head. Hard.

"Fuck off," Kimi tells him.

"You don't reply to my messages, you don't answer your phone," Seb says. "I had to come all the way over here just to check you weren't dead."

"I am dead," Kimi says, and yeah, he may as well be. "How did you get in here?"

"Your housekeeper let me in. She's worried about you." Seb looks at Kimi, shaking his head. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, bullshit." 

Kimi turns up the volume on the TV, but Seb gets up, snatching the remote out of Kimi's hand and turning it off. "I was watching that," Kimi protests faintly.

"Is this to do with Nico?"

"No," says Kimi, burrowing further into the couch, wanting to disappear.

"Really?"

Kimi pauses, then gives in. "Maybe."

Seb practically rolls his eyes. "What did you do?"

"How do you know it's my fault?"

"Because it's _always_ your fault." Seb grabs hold of Kimi's wrists, and Kimi tries to wrestle him for control but the asshole is stronger than he looks, dragging Kimi up into a sitting position.

"Go away," Kimi tells him, slumping back.

"Come on," Seb says, "we'll go get a drink."

And a drink does sound exactly like what Kimi needs right now, so he relents, says, "Fine," trying to seem as unenthused as possible, which isn't difficult.

Kimi's favorite bar is nearby, and it's not long at all before they're more than a few vodkas in. Kimi's already starting to feel a little better but, of course, fucking Seb can't let anything lie, and he starts up again. "So," he says, "Nico."

Kimi sighs. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'll just keep on till you tell me," Seb says, and yeah, he will.

"Why do you even care?"

"You're my friend." Seb smiles at him. "Also, you're miserable, and when you're miserable you're really, _really_ boring."

"I'm not."

"You are. So tell me about Nico."

Kimi swallows another gulp of vodka. "I think he wanted a relationship or something."

Seb gives him a sideways look. "Would that be the worst thing in the world?" 

"I don't know," says Kimi, staring down at his drink. "Maybe."

"Did he _say_ he wanted a relationship?" Seb asks, sounding suspicious.

"Well, no," Kimi admits.

"What _did_ he say?"

Kimi has to think back, and the answer makes him feel so small and foolish he could pretty much just die. "He said he I wished I would spend the night."

"That's all?"

"That's all." 

"Seriously?"

"The relationship thing was _implied_."

"You are so fucking stupid," Seb says, but there's fondness in his voice. "And what did you tell him?"

"I got pissed off and told him we were just fucking."

"And then what?"

"I left, and I didn't see him again." Kimi waves at the barman for another vodka, because he's going to need it. "And the next time I saw him he was with _Button_." The thought of that still stings him, the hurt sharp and raw.

Seb just looks at him. "After you'd basically broken up with him."

"There was nothing to be broken, we weren't together."

"So what do you care if he was with Jenson?"

"I don't," Kimi says, feeling defensive. "And then I don't remember what happened. I got drunk and two days later I woke up at Nico's place and he was mad at me."

"I can't think why."

"Shut up."

"Did you apologize?"

Kimi shrugs. "I got the team to send him some wine."

"The _team_?" Seb says, incredulous.

"It doesn't matter," Kimi says. "He sent it back."

"Yeah, I don't blame him."

"So I sent some flowers."

"You or the _team_?"

"Me." Kimi downs the rest of his drink, and there's a pleasing warmth beginning to settle inside his chest. Drinking solves everything, he's sure.

"Did he send those back?"

"No."

Seb nods. "Okay, that's good. That means he's coming around."

"I don't give a shit what he's doing," Kimi says.

"You give _so_ much of a shit." Seb grins. "You're pathetic."

"I know," Kimi says, because he _is_ pathetic. In every possible way.

"Have you called him?"

"He probably wouldn't answer."

"Send him a text."

Kimi screws up his face. "I hate texts."

"You just hate communicating." Seb grabs Kimi's phone off the bar. "What do you want to tell him?"

"Nothing," says Kimi. "I don't know." He considers. "Sorry."

" _Sorry_ ," says Seb, typing it into the phone. "Anything else?"

"You write something."

"If I put any more than that he'll know it's not from you." Seb presses the screen. "Sent," he says.

"Whatever," Kimi says.

They sit in silence for a moment, downing more vodka. "You know," Seb says, "Nico's pretty hot."

Kimi glares at him, confused. "I thought you were straight."

"I am, but come on." Seb elbows him. "The guy's prettier than most women."

"He really is." 

"I like his hair." 

"You what?" Kimi says, and he's so tired and so over _everything_ and the vodka is making him feel good. Really good. Enough so that he honestly can't bring himself to give a fuck whether or not Seb's making fun of him.

"I like his hair," Seb repeats.

"Oh yeah," says Kimi, distracted. "You can get your hands in his hair," he says, gesturing in the air. "And it's so soft and you just…" His voice trails away, because now he can't stop thinking.

"And his _ass_ ," Seb says, smirking.

"Oh god," says Kimi, "his _ass_." He folds his arms, lays his head down on the bar. "It's perfect," he says. "So. Fucking. Perfect." He bangs his fist on the surface to punctuate his words, and now Seb really is laughing at him.

"That good, huh?"

"You have _no idea_ how good."

Seb slaps Kimi on the back, orders another round of drinks. "You, my friend," he says, "are gone."

"Maybe," Kimi says, surprising even himself.

"You're _doomed_ ," Seb tells him.

And yeah, Kimi thinks, he is. He's _doomed_.

"The only solution," says Seb, "is more vodka."

"Always," Kimi says.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting back on track.

Kimi wakes up the next morning, and he doesn't feel _too_ bad, considering. Seb knows how to have a good time, but he never lets things get out of control, which is helpful during the season. Boring, as well, but then Kimi loves driving more than he loves drinking so even he has to admit that's it better not to be permanently hung over when there's races coming up.

He yawns, stretching his arms above his head, then props himself up on the pillows and grabs a bottle of water from the table beside the bed. He takes a swig, checking his phone, and there's a text that must have come through sometime last night. It's from Nico, and it simply says, _I'm sorry too_.

Kimi stares at the words for a while, and he's not sure what to think, what to do. Life's been a lot more complicated since Nico's been around, and Kimi doesn't like complicated. He likes Nico, though, and that, he guesses, is the heart of the problem. He isn't good at this, at relationships and _people_ , and in the past, he's mostly fucked things up enough that he's caused the person unlucky enough to have him care about them nothing but pain and hurt. And the very last thing in the whole world he _ever_ wants to do again is hurt Nico.

But then the thought of never seeing Nico again outside of the paddock on race weekends makes Kimi feel kind of empty inside, despairing, and the thought of never _touching_ Nico again, well. That makes Kimi want to go drown himself in an entire vat of vodka right now.

Which says something, he's sure.

And he's overthinking it, he knows. He always overthinks things. So before he can think any more, he calls Nico, just does it, doesn't even consider what he's going to say.

The phone rings, and he must be crazy to do this, to try again, and Nico probably won't even answer, Kimi bets, but he takes a breath.

They've come this far, so what's a little further, right?

-

Nico sees the number, and for a split second he muses on letting it go to voicemail, but that would be cowardly, he knows, so he answers. "Hi," he says.

"Hi," Kimi replies, voice sounding thick and sleepy.

"Big night?" Nico asks.

"What?"

"You sound like you just woke up."

"Oh," Kimi says, "yeah. I did." 

And Nico has to stop himself from picturing Kimi in bed, has to chase the thought away, however delightful it is, because he suspects he's going to need a clear head for this conversation. 

"I got your message," says Kimi.

"Good," Nico says. He hesitates for a moment before continuing. "I meant it," he says. "That I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry."

"Yeah, I do." There's an awkward silence and Nico wonders if this is even worth it, trying to explain, make things right, but he goes on. "I think…" he says, "I think I just got confused."

"I always confuse people," Kimi says, seriously.

And Nico smiles, relaxes just a hint, just enough. "That's not necessarily a bad thing."

"No?"

"No," says Nico. "It isn't. But I suppose I just don't understand what you want."

" _I_ don't know what I want." Kimi huffs out a small breath that could almost be a laugh. "But I don't know what you want, either."

"I want…" Nico stops, takes a minute, because he doesn't want to get this wrong. "I just… I like you," he says, finally. "I mean, I like fucking you, yeah, but I like _you_. And I guess I'd like to spend some… non-fucking time with you."

"Really?" Kimi asks, as if the idea's never even occurred to him.

"Yeah, "Nico says. "We could… I don't know," he admits. "We could have dinner, maybe watch a movie or something."

"Oh," Kimi says, sounding somewhat taken aback.

And Nico can't gauge whether he's freaked out or just surprised, but then if Kimi was easier to read none of this would be half as convoluted as it's ended up being. "Would that be okay with you?" Nico asks, tentatively.

"Yeah, it would," Kimi says. "We could do that." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," says Kimi, more definite this time. 

"Good," Nico says, and there's a slow warmth spreading through his chest, relief bubbling up inside of him like something tangible, because maybe this is going to be okay.

"What about Jenson?" Kimi asks.

And yeah, Nico thinks, nothing's ever that simple, but. "That was a one-time thing," he states, firmly. "Before that I hadn't been with him since I started seeing you." He inhales, steadies himself. "I wasn't with anyone else after I started seeing you."

There's a pause, and then Kimi says, "I didn't know that."

"Well, I should have told you. I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter." 

"It does."

"Sorry about the drunk thing," says Kimi.

"It's okay," Nico tells him. "But don't _ever_ do it again."

"Did I break anything? If I broke anything…"

"You just made a mess."

"Sometimes I do that," Kimi says.

"Yeah," says Nico. "Me too." They both laugh a little, and Nico can feel it now, something building, like perhaps there's just the slightest chance they can get over themselves, get past this. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing important."

"Can you get here?"

"Definitely."

"How about I cook dinner?"

"You can cook?"

"Of course I can cook."

"I didn't know that."

"Well," Nico says, "there's a lot you don't know about me."

"Maybe," says Kimi.

"Around seven?"

"Okay," Kimi says. 

"Good," Nico says. "And don't bring any wine."

"No wine."

"I think we've done the wine thing." _No more token gestures_ , is what he wants to say, and he hopes Kimi understands.

"What about beer?" Kimi asks.

"I have beer," Nico says. "Just bring yourself."

"I can do that," says Kimi.

"Okay," Nico replies. "I'll see you then."

"You will," Kimi tells him, and the certainty in his voice makes Nico feel a touch light-headed, dizzy, breathless with _something_. 

_Possibility_ , maybe, the hope of a fresh start or a second chance, the mere fact that, this time, things might be different.

"Bye," he says, but Kimi's already gone, and Nico puts the phone down on the table, stares at it, and it takes him a moment to realize that he's smiling.

He's probably crazy, he knows, because this is _Kimi_ , but then sometimes it's good to be crazy. He's never been the type to take risks, not in his personal life, but he's beginning to believe that people can change.

Anything can change.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last time.

Kimi stands at Nico's door, empty-handed. _Just bring yourself_ , Nico had said, and that's what Kimi's done, but now he's here, he hesitates. He's not entirely sure what's going to happen tonight, but whatever it is, he suspects it's going to change things. He feels like he's standing on the edge of a cliff, on the precipice of something _important_ and for a second he's uncertain whether he's brave enough to move forward, to take the next step.

But then, Kimi tells himself, it's just dinner. Not every single thing has to be a big deal, the signifier of something momentous and irreversible. Sometimes dinner is just dinner, and it's thinking the opposite of that that got Kimi into this mess in the first place, so he takes a breath, knocks.

Nico opens the door, smiles at Kimi, and _damn_ but he looks good. Nico always looks good, of course, he's _Nico_ , but there's something about him tonight, Kimi thinks, something different. He's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, barefoot, and Kimi can't help but look him up and down, smiling back at him. 

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," Nico replies, standing back, ushering Kimi in. "I'm just in the middle of cooking."

Kimi follows him through to the kitchen. "Beer?" Nico asks him and he nods.

Nico takes a bottle from the fridge, opens it, handing it to Kimi. "Thanks," he says, taking a swig, leaning up against one of the counters, careful to choose somewhere he'll be out of the way, not wanting to give Nico any reason to be irritated with him.

"You can sit down if you want," Nico says.

"I'm okay," Kimi tells him.

"Well," he says, "dinner shouldn't be too long." 

He turns away, getting back to the cooking. Kimi stands, watching him as he hovers over something on the stove, checks the oven. It's all so very ordinary, domestic even, and Kimi should feel at least a little freaked out by that but, strangely, he doesn't. He studies Nico, notices the way he frowns when he's concentrating, the shape his mouth makes when he samples something, the way his fingers curve as he lifts the lid of a saucepan, steam gently framing his face.

Neither of them speak, but it's not uncomfortable or awkward, a companionable silence, and Kimi can _feel_ himself relax, the tension in his shoulders releasing. People usually _want_ something from Kimi, and he's grown so used to those expectations, of never being thought of as _enough_ that sometimes it's hard to let that go.

But Nico seems perfectly content to let him be, glancing over his shoulder every now and then, giving Kimi a _look_ that could be flirtatious, could be dirty, but could also be merely friendly. Kimi's eyes drift down to Nico's ass, staring as he shifts from foot to foot, his hips swaying exaggeratedly, and that has to be deliberate, surely.

Nico turns, his back to the counter, and he smiles at Kimi, holds his gaze for a long moment, then says, "I think we're ready."

"Yeah," Kimi says, not quite knowing _what_ he's agreeing to, but certain it doesn't matter.

Nico nods at him, and it feels as if something's been decided, like Kimi's passed some kind of test he wasn't even aware he was supposed to be taking. And it's strange, but it's good. It feels good to be here, be with Nico, like this.

Nico takes the plates of food, heads for the table. "Grab me a beer," he says, and Kimi goes to the fridge, getting a bottle for Nico and another for himself, opening them both, then following Nico into the other room.

"Cheers," Nico says, clinking their bottles together as Kimi sits down.

Dinner is some kind of chicken thing, and he takes a mouthful. And it's good, it's _really_ good, which shouldn't be surprising, but somehow, it is. "I like this," he says.

"Don't sound so shocked," Nico tells him.

"I'm not," he says, and Nico raises an eyebrow at him, but lets it go.

They don't say anything for a few minutes, and then Nico asks a couple of questions about the next race, and Kimi answers, and before he can think about it too much, they're having an actual, proper conversation.

Kimi forgets, sometimes, that he really does like talking to people. _Some_ people, anyway, because when you spend what seems like most of your life answering the same stupid questions over and over and over again, when words are _forced_ out of you almost constantly, it's hard to remember what it feels like to just let things flow, to not feel self-conscious.

They both finish eating around the same time, and Kimi jumps up, taking the empty plates to the kitchen and quickly rinsing them, putting them in the dishwasher.

When he sits back down, Nico says, "Thanks," then regards him for a second. "Are you on your best behaviour?" he asks, and Kimi shakes his head, feeling sheepish.

"Maybe," he says, shrugging. "Is it working?" he asks, trying not to sound _too_ hopeful.

"I don't know," Nico answers, but he stands up, moving until he's standing next to Kimi's chair. 

Kimi shifts back from the table, and Nico slides sideways into his lap, graceful and lithe. "Maybe it's working," Nico says, fingers stroking through the hair at the back of Kimi's neck. "Maybe," he says, again, and then they're kissing, Kimi's arms around Nico's waist, pulling him closer.

He closes his eyes, losing himself in the feel of it, Nico's weight on him, his skin under Kimi's fingers, his mouth easy and hot against Kimi's. It's always been so _urgent_ between them before, boundaries pushed to leave no space for anything that might be mistaken for true intimacy, real emotions. But this, this is real, and it's no less intense for it, something raw and unfeigned.

They kiss for what could be minutes, could be hours; Kimi finds himself unable to tell, but when Nico slips off his lap, he feels dazed, almost overcome. Nico's hands are on his thighs, opening Kimi's legs, and then he's on his knees, unfastening Kimi's jeans and taking out his cock, fingers cool and smooth on sensitive skin.

Kimi shifts forward in his seat, looking down at Nico, watching the way he pauses for a moment, then wraps one hand around the base of Kimi's cock, loose caresses as he leans closer, closer, his breath soft the instant before he opens his mouth, warm heat engulfing Kimi as he sucks gently, deliberately, tongue lingering in the places Kimi likes best.

Before, Kimi would have pushed his hips up, forced his way into Nico's throat, tugged on his hair, but this time he's still, carefully stroking along Nico's jaw, feeling how it moves as he works, observing the way Nico's lips are stretched around his cock, shining with wetness as Nico pulls back, slides down, in a steady, careful rhythm.

Kimi can hear himself breathing, feel it building up inside him, a gathering storm, and it's too fast, too soon. "Wait," he says, and Nico stops, moving back.

"What?" he asks.

"I want to come in your ass," Kimi says, and Nico shakes his head.

"No," he says. "Not tonight."

"No?" says Kimi, because if this is how things are going to go, he's not sure he likes it.

"No," Nico says, standing up, taking Kimi's hands. "Tonight," he says, "I'm going to fuck _you_."

" _Oh_ ," Kimi says. "Really." He smiles, heat spreading through him like a smouldering fire, ash tinged with embers that could spark at any moment.

"Yeah," Nico says, smiling back at him, eyes alive with it, and he's never looked so beautiful, not like this. "Really," he says. "And I'm going to do it so good, and so _slow_." He bites his bottom lip, teeth white, then enunciates each word. "So fucking _slow_."

Kimi's on his feet, eager, heading for the bedroom as they both strip without ceremony, not waiting, because they've got all the time in the world. And then Kimi's face down on the bed, Nico opening him up with tongue and fingers, unhurried, delicious torment that goes on forever, until Kimi feels as if he might break apart with it, shatter into pieces and fly away. 

"Turn over," Nico tells him, and he obeys, thighs spread. 

"Come on," he says, but there's no rush, nothing to hide, just unashamed want, open need, as Nico pushes into him.

Kimi doesn't close his eyes until Nico starts kissing him, leaning down, the steady pulse of his thrusts in time with Kimi's heartbeat as Nico's hand moves on his cock, and there's the sensation of falling, the absence of gravity, only Nico inside of him keeping him grounded, connected with reality as he sinks, further, deeper down.

And then they're coming, both together, Nico burying his face in Kimi's shoulder, Kimi clawing at Nico's back, pleasure slicing through him until Nico's weight falls limply on to him, catching his breath.

"Fuck," Nico says, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," Kimi replies, because that's all that really needs to be said.

They're still, resting for a moment until Nico pulls out, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom. "Where are you going?" Kimi asks, weakly, but Nico's soon back, wiping Kimi's come off his stomach with a warm, wet washcloth. Kimi smirks at him, opens his legs wider. "You should lick it off," he says, and Nico grins back.

"Not tonight," he says, and Kimi has to admit, it's kind of nice, being tended to like this. Nico takes his time, patting Kimi's thigh when he's done. He goes back into the bathroom and Kimi shifts on the bed, crawling in under the covers, wriggling himself around until he's perfectly comfortable, settled. He feels sated, lazy, satisfied in the most perfect way, mind serene and empty, body loose, relaxed.

Nico climbs into the bed, snuggling up next to him, head resting on Kimi's chest, one arm round Kimi's waist, and Kimi strokes his hair, runs his hand down Nico's back.

"I had a meeting tomorrow morning," he says, feeling sleep creeping up on him like an old, familiar friend.

"Had?" Nico says.

"Yeah," Kimi tells him. "I cancelled it."

"Hmmm," says Nico.

"I thought I could stay," says Kimi, and that was supposed to be some big concession, some portentous announcement, but instead it just feels like the most natural thing in the world. "I thought we could have breakfast."

And he _feels_ Nico's smile against his skin. "I'd like that," Nico says.

"Yeah," Kimi replies, pulling Nico closer. "Me too."


End file.
